"I've been watching your progress since you transferred, Hotaru-kun. You've adjusted quickly. This school has high expectations for students like you."
"Now that you've settled in, I'd like you to think about how you can contribute beyond your grades. Your record is… impressive."
"Outstanding students are often given more responsibilities here. I hope you're prepared for that."
The principal's words lingered in Shiharu's mind long after the conversation ended.
He walked down the quiet corridor, hands in his pockets, his steps unhurried. Evening had begun to settle over the school, but it was far from silent.
Whistles pierced the air from the field.
Voices shouted commands and laughter echoed in bursts.
The sharp thud of balls hitting fences rang out repeatedly.
Some students were still cleaning classrooms and hallways, their chatter low and tired. From a distance, faint music drifted through the air—ballet practice still ongoing. Teachers lingered in the staffroom, their presence heavy but distant.
All of it.
None of it had anything to do with him.
He didn't belong to any of it—and he didn't care to.
The only problem…
He didn't want to be noticed.
Yet somehow, he had already caught the attention of the principal.
"…Ah, geez. How annoying."
His voice was low, barely above a breath.
Shiharu turned into his classroom, intending to grab his bag and leave immediately. But the moment he stepped in, he noticed two boys near the windows, flipping through what looked like extra yearbook pages, their attention completely absorbed.
Right.
Ignore them.
He moved toward his seat at the back of the class, his usual place—isolated, untouched.
Then he stopped.
"…What's this?"
His gaze fixed on the desk beside his.
When he first arrived, that seat had been empty. No one sat beside him, no one behind him. Just as he preferred it.
But now—
A locker.
The number caught his eye.
13.
Shiharu's brows furrowed slightly as he glanced around the classroom, his sharp gaze scanning every corner.
The 13th locker was already where it should be.
So…
Why was there another one here?
"…Are you new?"
The voice cut through his thoughts.
Shiharu lifted his head slowly.
One of the boys had turned to him.
And the moment their eyes met—
The student's expression shifted.
His eyes widened, just slightly.
As if he had realized something he wasn't supposed to.
"Damn… you look like you walked straight out of a drama. No way you're in any sports club with a face like that. You're… uh—pretty. For a guy."
The second boy grinned shamelessly.
His hair was a deep, earthy red—like fox fur, with darker ends—and his crimson eyes gleamed with mischief. Braces flashed when he smiled, making his already striking face even more noticeable.
Shiharu stared at him blankly.
Speechless.
Is this how people see me…?
A faint, distant thought crossed his mind.
....I miss Hoshiyuki.
"Yes. I'm new," he replied flatly, his gaze drifting back to the locker beside him.
The strange one.
The one that shouldn't be here.
"…Damn," the red-haired boy muttered, leaning in closer, invading his space without hesitation. "The new kid's really pretty. That's unfair. I want you."
"Boink—!"
A sharp knock landed on his head.
"Ow—! What was that for?!" the boy yelped, instantly ducking and clutching his head.
The first boy sighed.
His chestnut brown hair fell softly to his neck, brushing his collar as he shook his head, clearly used to this behavior.
"Shiharu, please forgive his manners."
Shiharu blinked.
"You… know me?"
"Mm. We're classmates."
"Oh…"
He nodded, a small, awkward smile forming.
His first real conversation with a classmate.
"I didn't know we had someone this pretty in our class," the red-haired one added, fixing his hair like nothing had happened.
The brown-haired boy stepped forward slightly.
"I'm Itsuki. And that idiot is Hiroshi."
"Hey—!"
Itsuki ignored him, offering his hand with a light smile.
"Not the first time I've seen you… but it's nice to finally talk."
Shiharu hesitated for a second before slipping his slender hand into Itsuki's, accepting the handshake.
"…Shiharu."
His voice was quiet.
Then—
"All classes have twelve lockers on the east wall," Itsuki continued, his tone shifting as he glanced toward the corner. "Each numbered properly."
His brows furrowed.
"So why is there… another one?"
The three of them turned toward it.
Locker 13.
But—
There was already a locker 13 where it was supposed to be.
"…Two 13s?" Itsuki murmured. "That's… weird. This school doesn't make mistakes like that."
"Maybe it's for another class?" Hiroshi suggested, though even he sounded unsure.
"I don't think so," Shiharu said, folding his arms and tilting his head slightly. "No sane person would move their locker into a different classroom."
A brief silence followed.
"Hey… look at this."
Itsuki suddenly slid a yearbook onto Shiharu's desk.
The pages flipped open.
"Not sure if anyone else noticed, but… this student."
He pointed.
A girl.
Short.
Messy, wavy black hair that covered her eyes completely.
And that smile—
The same one in every single photo.
Unchanging.
Unsettling.
"She graduated two years ago," Itsuki said quietly.
He flipped to another page.
And another.
And another.
Different events.
Different settings.
Yet—
There she was.
In all of them.
Same hair.
Same smile.
Watching.
"But her picture keeps showing up in recent candid photos."
The classroom fell silent.
The air shifted.
Subtle.
Heavy.
Almost—
Familiar.
Shiharu's gaze slowly moved from the yearbook…
…to the locker beside him.
Locker 13.
The one that wasn't there before.
A faint chill crept down his spine.
Something was wrong.